


if you can't leave it be, might as well make it bleed

by 9crimes



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, Smut, post 2x12
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:00:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3380711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9crimes/pseuds/9crimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>things don't go according to plan in Mt. Weather. Bellamy and Clarke deal with the consequences in their own ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you can't leave it be, might as well make it bleed

**Author's Note:**

> half of this was written before 2x12 aired. I have a lot of ideas of how Bellamy and Clarke will deal with the things that have gone down in the last few episodes and/or could possibly go down in future episodes( ie the very real possibility that they can't save all the pre-schoolers), and this is a very simplified version of one of my ideas. Thanks for reading!! Appreciate all of you.

They fuck a few months after Mt. Weather.

It starts like this: they’ve barely spoken since they got (almost) everyone back and it’s the opposite of what Clarke thought (wished) would happen. Bellamy barely speaks to anyone, really, except for Octavia and the younger kids. He throws himself into the training program Kane and Indra have set up, gets his ass kicked by the grounder warriors every day then goes back for more. She overhears him telling Octavia that he’s doing it to regain his status as cadet, that Kane told him he had to start from the bottom and work his way up (asshole).

Clarke knows what he’s really doing.

‘You’re punishing yourself’ she says when she walks into his quarters. He’s stitching himself up, a long gash down his left bicep. She doesn’t ask him why he didn’t come to medical. She already knows why.

He doesn’t look up. Clarke balls up her fist to stop herself from going to him, taking the needle and thread from his hand. His stitches are sloppy and he’ll have a scar. She hasn’t touched him since right after mt. weather when he’d collapsed into her, cupping the back of her head and holding her to his chest.

‘What the hell are you talking about’ he grunts. A lump forms in her throat at the sound of his voice, unpleasant as it is (she misses him).

‘You blame yourself. For what happened at Mt. Weather. You feel guilty so you’re punishing yourself’. She recognizes the sarcastic smile that forms on his lips, from the early days. Good, she thinks. She can handle that Bellamy.

‘What’s your point?’ he says impatiently, through gritted teeth as he finishes the last stitch. She can tell he’s in pain because of the way his jaw is clenching and his biceps are tense.

‘You’re blaming the wrong person. I made the call, not you’. When he immediately starts shaking his head she wants to scream. When he opens his mouth she cuts him off.

‘Don’t say it. I don’t want to hear that I did what I had to do, or that it was the right thing. You don’t believe that, do you Bellamy? Not really’. He hasn’t moved from his spot on his bunk, still hasn’t looked at her. So she keeps talking. Eventually something she says will get a rise out of him, always does.

‘You’re just like everyone else, pretending not to hate me -’ he shoots off the bed at that, and huh it took less than she thought it would to get a reaction. He doesn’t move towards her, though, just stands there, cargos slung low on his hips, chest rising and falling heavily.

‘You think I hate you? That is so...’ He lets out a harsh laugh and lifts his hands to his head as he starts pacing the room.

 _‘What?_ So _what?_ Say it, tell me, just say _something,_ please’. She’s begging. She can’t bring herself to care, though, because she needs something real, something besides the tight, polite looks everyone gives her. Something besides the way people look at her when they think she’s not paying attention. They pity her, fear her, hate her, who knows. The only thing she knows is that she’s sick of the fake smiles and the fake respect.

‘Alright’ he says lowly ‘you want the truth?’ they make eye contact for the first time and Clarke holds her breath, doesn’t let it out until he starts walking towards her slowly.

‘I wanted to, at first. I wanted to blame you, and hate you. People _died_ , Clarke. People I pr-promised I’d _save_ , and now they’re dead’. Clarke doesn’t shrink from his words, she basks in them. This is real, this is truth and Bellamy is the only one who is willing to give it to her.

‘Go on’ she urges. ‘What else? Come on, I’m a big girl I can handle it’.

‘You’re so fucking stubborn. You never listen to anyone, not until it’s too late’ He’s talking about everyone in Mt. Weather but he’s also talking about Charlotte, she knows he is. It hurts but she revels in it, lifts her chin just a little bit to show him she can take it.

‘We had a _plan_. And it would have worked, but you...you just gave up. _You let them die._ What, you wanted to prove you’re not weak? Wanted to show how much you don’t care? Mission accomplished, General Griffin’ he mock salutes her but his voice is raspy and he’s desperately trying to blink away the tears forming in his eyes.

‘But I can’t...I can’t hate you -’

‘Yes, you _can. It’s my fault._ Hate me, I deserve it!’ She puts her hands on his shoulders, his bare shoulders, and she burns from it. She almost pulls away, it’s what she would have done just a few months ago. Instead she lets her fingers glide over his broad, tanned shoulders, to the muscled planes of his chest. When she grazes his nipples he puts a hand over hers and pulls them away.

‘What the _hell_ are you doing?’ He’s got both her hands covered with just one of his and something about that sends a rush of heat through her. She sees that same heat in his eyes, despite the attempt at displeasure in his voice, and that’s all she needs.

‘Stop punishing yourself. Punish me instead, take it out on _me’_. She bites her lip and steps away from him, her hands falling out of his easily since he’s pretty much frozen in something like shock. When she shrugs her jacket off he snaps out of it.

‘If you think I’m gonna do that, you don’t know anything about me’.

‘Why not?’ She asks innocently, pulling her shirt over her head, leaving her in just her off-white ark issued bra. He puts his hands on his hips and maintains eye contact, refuses to let his eyes wander. ‘It’s better this way, for both of us. You can hate me instead of yourself, and I...’

‘What? What do you get out of it?’ He asks, and there’s no way she’s answering that question truthfully. What’s she gonna tell him, _I feel so guilty about everything I’ve done and you’re the only one whose absolution i’ve ever needed, but i don’t deserve it this time so I need you to stop giving it to me?_ Yea...no.

‘I just want...I want you to fuck me’. He still hasn’t looked below eye level and seriously, he’s about to give her a complex.

‘Is that an order?’ Her fingers pause on the button of her jeans and her blood runs cold. She’s not sure why she’s having this reaction, this is what she wanted isn’t it? For him to get angry, to hate her, to say things he may or may not mean. But suddenly she feels like she’s suffocating, she has to get out of here.

She bends to pick up her shirt and stumbles towards the door.

Before she can open it wide enough to slip through, Bellamy grasps her by the elbow, spinning her around to face him. They stare at each other for a moment then he’s moving forward, and her back is pressed to the door. His palms brace on the door above her head and she’s surrounded, everything around her is just _Bellamy._ She arches her back a little, pushing her breasts into his chest. He doesn’t react, just clenches his jaw and maintains eye contact. When she snakes a hand between them and pulls on his belt, though, his hand is on hers and pinning it to the door above her head before she can blink. He does the same with her other hand, pulling it above her head slowly, and she wonders why she’s never fantasized about being pressed against a door by Bellamy Blake. Turns out she’s really into it.

‘This isn’t about you wanting me to fuck you’ he’s lowered his head so their foreheads are touching and his lips are centimeters away from hers and she can feel his breath mingling with hers before she can process his words.

‘You don’t wanna be punished and you sure as hell don’t care about any of that bullshit you said about me blaming myself’ She lowers her eyes and turns her face away from him, but he grabs her by the hair and pulls her back. Something twists in her gut and she can feel herself getting wet. Probably better not to delve too deeply into the psychological implications of the fact that Bellamy being the most aggressive he’s ever been towards her, physically at least, is also the most turned on she’s ever been by him.

‘You just wanna feel something’. As he says that he lets go of her hands, which she instinctually leaves clasped together above her head, and runs his hands down her arms until his fingers brush the sides of her breasts. He lets his hands float over her skin lightly until he reaches the waistline of her pants. He pauses then, and god she has to get some sort of control over this whole...situation.

‘How would you know?’ It comes out on a sigh, which, ok not exactly the strong statement she’d wanted to make. But Bellamy’s fingers are inches away from her pussy and her whole torso is pressed against his very naked, very _hard_ torso, so. She tried.

‘Because’ he dips his head and presses an open mouthed kiss to the pulsepoint on her neck ‘I want the opposite’. Somehow she knows exactly what he means. It makes her heart hurt a little. Where she has numbed herself over the course of time since arriving on the ground, Bellamy has just bled more. He feels to his very core every loss, every death, every tragedy they’ve been thrust in the middle of. She’s struck with a strange panic, knows that what they’re doing isn’t the longterm answer for either of them.

Then the button of her jeans pops and she feels herself clench with anticipation. Bellamy’s fingers dip into her panties and she drops her head to the crook of his neck, mouth open in an ‘O’. She bites into his skin with a gasp when his middle finger slides into her, soon followed by a second. It’s been a long time since she’s done anything like this and Clarke can’t tell if she’s just desperate to be touched or if it’s because it’s _Bellamy_ doing the touching. Either way her breathing is unsteady already, her pulse pounding wildly, and she feels that pressure in her core spreading lower and lower. Her hips start moving in a slow circle, chasing that pressure, but Bellamy’s big hand spreads across her stomach, pressing her back into the door and making it impossible for her to get the friction she wants.

She opens her eyes, mouth open in preparation to yell at him for teasing her but she finds him finally letting his eyes drop to her tits. He’s staring at her breasts as they bounce a little with the thrusts of his fingers inside her. She feels his hand stretch even further against her and his fingers dig into the skin of her stomach so hard it hurts a little. Two can play at the teasing game, and she can’t help the satisfied smirk that crosses her face when his breathing quickens as she brings her hands down from above her head and runs them over her breasts, squeezing them together and circling her nipples with her thumbs. His eyes darken as he watches her and he lets out a low ‘ _holy fuck_ ’. She’s suddenly desperate for more.

This time Bellamy doesn’t stop her when she pulls on his belt. She struggles with the zipper, distracted by the way his fingers curl in her cunt, hitting a spot she hadn’t yet discovered, and the way his thumb is swiping at her clit steadily. She’s even more distracted when he moves the hand on her stomach up to her tits, tweaking one nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. He lowers his head to her forehead again but moves his lips to the side when she tries to kiss him. She frowns at that, but then he’s spinning her around so her back is to him and she can feel his dick pressing against her lower back.

‘Still want me to fuck you?’ he whispers in her ear as he kicks her legs apart and braces his knees outside hers. Her ass presses back into him in a slow circle and she doesn’t really know what she’s doing but it feels good, really good, so she goes with it.

She nods her head, a little frantically maybe. But it’s Bellamy and when she turns to her right his arm is braced against the wall and it’s flexing and his veins are bulging, so she’s not sure how she’s expected to be anything less than overwhelmed and a little frantic.

Then her pants are at her ankles and he’s inside her, balls deep. It’s not a perfect fit at first, because of course not, nothing ever is with them. He gives her time to adjust, lets his head fall to rest in the crook of her neck, and she snakes one of her hands down to rub at her clit.

When she tell him to _‘move, for god’s sake’_ he pulls out slowly, then slams back into her.

And that? Feels pretty damn perfect.

She comes for the first time about 30 seconds after he starts fucking her. He’s whispering in her ear shit about how tight she is, how he knew she’d be like this, what a good girl she is, and she can only reach behind her, bury a hand in his hair and pull as she rides out her orgasm. When her knees buckle underneath her he catches her with his thighs, then just presses her harder into the door and digs his fingers into her hips, holding on so tight she knows she’ll have bruises later ( _good_ she thinks, she wants to remember this).

He’s unrelenting after that, and she could think about how he’s doing exactly what she asked him to do before, pouring out all of his frustration and anger and guilt and pain into her, but it feels good and she’d rather focus on that.

The rest is a blur. She’s not sure how long they go. She comes again, at some point, his name falling from her lips on a sob, and it’s almost too much. She’s so sensitive, so exhausted, but then Bellamy grabs her hand and laces their fingers together, pressing against her heart, and she just wants more and more and more. She can tell he’s about to come, but she doesn’t want it to ever end.

Afterwards he lets his hands trace a map over her body, presses a kiss to the nape of her neck, and pulls her jeans back up over her legs. He fixes the cups of her bra up over her breasts, then crosses the room, picks up her shirt where she had thrown it earlier, and hands it to her as he buttons his own pants.

‘Bellamy...’ Clarke starts as she pulls her shirt over her head.

‘You should go’ he says, and the tone of his voice doesn’t really make it seem like a suggestion. ‘I have to be up early and I’m sure you have...other things to do’.

She wants to argue, demand they talk about what just happened. But the truth is she’s exhausted and whatever a conversation with Bellamy would turn out to be right now, whether a fight or...something else, she’s not in the mood. So she looks at him one last time, lets her eyes linger on the fresh scars she has no idea how he got, and slips out of his room.

When she’s lying in her bed that night all she thinks about is that he never once kissed her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

She doesn’t see him for 2 weeks.

When he walks into the council room behind Kane her throat closes up and the weight that’s been pressing on her stomach since she left his quarters gets heavier.

‘I hope you don’t mind, Chancellor, but I’ve asked Mr. Blake to join us today’ Kane is addressing her mother, but he looks at Clarke directly.

The meeting passes in a fog, all she can think about is Bellamy. He’s cut his hair since she saw him last, shaved his stubble (which is a damn shame, honestly). He looks...better. The bruises on his face have faded, and there are no fresh ones which means he must be improving in training. The thought brings a smile to her face. He’s strong, skilled with more than just a gun. It’s good that he’s started fighting back instead of letting himself get the shit kicked out of him as some sort of penance.

He doesn’t look at her once.

Until the end, that is, when Kane stands and announces his plans to send a group to TonDC with Indra, to help rebuild and repair relations between the Tree People and the rest of the clans. A group he has assigned Bellamy to lead. His eyes slide over to her as soon as Kane says it.

Clarke feels the tears build up behind her eyelids and blinks them away rapidly as she listens to her mother approve the mission and thank Bellamy for being willing to go. She’s a little too eager to be rid of Bellamy, in Clarke’s opinion, but she has no idea what reason her mom would have to dislike him, so she puts the thought out of her head.

She expects him to hurry out after the meeting, but he doesn’t. He talks to every single council member, shakes the mens’ hands and smiles charmingly at the ladies, hands clasped behind his back. For someone who couldn’t care less about politics, she thinks he’s pretty good at this part of it.

Soon they’re the only 2 left in the room and he makes his way over to her, scratching the back of his neck, eyes lowered to the floor. Clarke tries to steady her breathing, straightens her shoulders and holds her head high. He’s doing well, better than he has in months, and she needs to be doing well too. She can’t let him see how their...encounter has changed her.

‘Congratulations, Bellamy’ she breaks the silence first. ‘Kane must trust you a lot, to offer you this opportunity’.

‘Yea...I kinda had to talk him into it, actually. He’s not my biggest fan. But he says I’ve done well, the last few weeks. So he’s giving me a shot’ Clarke thinks she’s going to be sick. That he volunteered to go...well, she hadn’t been expecting that.

‘Oh. Oh that’s...that’s really great. Um, when do you leave?’

‘This afternoon’. Tears are building up in her eyes again and all she can do is nod her head.

‘Right. Well, good luck -’

‘Clarke, I wanted to talk to you before I left -’ She holds up a hand to silence him.

‘No, it’s not necessary, really Bellamy’. She lets herself look at him then and the raw emotion on his face gives her pause. He hasn’t looked at her like this since...well since before Mt. Weather, that’s for sure.

‘It is, actually. You don’t have to say anything, just listen. Please, Clarke’. She sees his hand flex at his side, thinks he probably wants to touch her arm or elbow. He would have, before. Now she’s not sure if she’s glad he keeps his hands to himself or if she wishes he would reach out to her.

She nods at him to go on.

‘I need to apologize’ she shakes her head, not wanting to hear how he regrets what happened between them, but he presses on ‘Not for what happened, but how it happened. It was...I never wanted it to be like that, between us. You deserve better than the way I treated you’.

‘It’s not like I didn’t enjoy it’ she blurts out, because it’s the truth. She’s not going to let him make a martyr of himself over this.

He smiles and ducks his head, and a blush creeps up his neck that makes her wonder which part exactly he’s remembering.

‘That’s uh, good. But still’ He doesn’t go on but she knows what he means. They were both in a bad place that night, and sex was the absolute last thing that should have happened.

‘I also wanted to thank you. What you said, about punishing myself...that was true. I was feeling sorry for myself, drowning in my guilt. But you were wrong, too. I don’t hate you. I don’t blame you. Everything that’s happened since we got here...there was no good way for this to end. I realized that, over the last few weeks. There are no good choices down here.You did the best you could. That’s all any of us can do’. Tears are falling down her face freely now and she doesn’t even care. He hasn’t talked to her like this, this freely, since Mt. Weather and he’s saying things she didn’t even know she needed to hear.

Bellamy looks uncomfortable, unsure what to do, so when he hesitantly places a hand on her shoulder in comfort, she crashes into him. Her arms wind around his neck and she’s reminded of a different time and place as he wraps himself around her.

‘I _miss_ you’ She whispers into his skin.

He doesn’t respond. She tells herself not to push, he’s given her more than she could have hoped for today and she won’t ruin it by asking for more.  
When he pulls away first she takes a step back, content to let the moment pass. But then he snakes an arm around her waist, pulls her body into his slowly.

‘There’s one more thing I wanted to do, before I leave...’ one hand comes up to push tendrils of curls out of her face, tilt her chin up towards him, and then he’s cupping the side of her face in his large hand. He takes another step into her and lowers his lips to hers softly.

The kiss doesn’t deepen, doesn’t go beyond their lips touching gently.

It’s perfect, Clarke thinks.

‘Do you really have to go?’ She asks when they part, and she knows it’s selfish. She knows this, but she can’t help it. _I need you,_ she wants to say ( _I want you_ is what she means).

Bellamy drops a kiss to her forehead and takes a deep breath. ‘I’m not doing this to get away from you, Clarke. But I think it’ll be...I think we both need the space’ He’s searching her eyes, willing her to understand. And she does, she gets it.

‘And when you get back?’

‘When I get back...you’ll be here?’ She nods. ‘I’ll be here, too. We start there’.

He gives her one last smile, a bright open smile the likes she hasn’t seen since Unity Day, and he’s gone.

Clarke is left with a feeling she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel again, a feeling she’s not sure she even deserves to feel again.

Hope.


End file.
